


Our Lil' Bastard: Smaug

by Curstaidh_Fraser



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Thilbo, bagginshield, cat!smaug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curstaidh_Fraser/pseuds/Curstaidh_Fraser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins works an animal shelter while his partner, Thorin Oakenshield works as a civil servant for a security agency. Bilbo brings home a cat one day because he feels bad for the ginger tomcat, Smaug. The cat proceeds to make Thorin's life hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off to a Bad Start

"We should get a cat," Bilbo states simply as he lazily folds his hands under his head.

"What?" Thorin asks with a start. "You try to spring something like that on me when I'm in such a state."

Bilbo chuckles softly. "That was the plan."

"Why?" Thorin frowns pulling the blankets over his naked form.

"I've been working at the shelter for quite some time and there are some animals that never get adopted. I can't imagine what it would be like to live my entire life in a cage. It can't be nice," Bilbo finishes sadly. He rolls onto his side to face Thorin.

Thorin does not look over at Bilbo when Bilbo runs his fingers over the taunt muscles of Thorin's stomach, muscles that jump under Bilbo's tender, teasing touch.

Thorin sighs contentedly, stretching. "Why now though?"

Bilbo exhales heavily. "I just can't stop thinking about you leaving in 9 days to be gone for god knows how long. Our house is so quiet when you are gone, I can hardly stand it. I would like company while you're away on these missions. Sitting here by myself just lets me worry way more than I should."

Thorin wraps his arms around Bilbo pulling the much smaller man to his chest. "I'm sorry," he says running his fingers through Bilbo's light brown, curly hair. "I could see about a desk job. I've been with the agency for long enough. I hate thinking about you sitting here alone and worrying."

"No. I don't want you to do that." Bilbo cards his fingers through Thorin's dark chest hair. "You would hate sitting at a desk all day. Remember that time that they had you on an office job after your gunshot wound. You were always grumpy. You were always angry . . ." Bilbo nestles his face into Thorin's chest. "I don't think I could handle that again."

Thorin snorts lightly, his free hand automatically going to leg where the scar tissue from the gunshot wound has started to fade from the violent purple that it had been. "I apologized for that."

"I know you did," Bilbo says gently, winding his leg through Thorin's. "I'm not asking you to apologize again. I am asking you if we can get a cat to keep me company."

Thorin tilts his head back, staring at the off ceiling that is tinted green by the sunlight coming through the gauzy, leafy curtains that Bilbo had picked out when they had moved into this new home in the suburbs. He absently rubs Bilbo's bare back, relishing the smooth skin under his fingers. "Why a cat though? Why not a dog? A dog might be better company."

"Yes, but . . ." Bilbo trails off, humming in pleasure from the back robs that Thorin was giving him.

Thorin smiles lazily. Smug and pleased that simple back rubs provided Bilbo with pleasure. "But what?" he encourages gently.

Bilbo hums again before answering. "There are days that I'm just not to going out. A dog would demand a constant attention that I'm not able to give. Some days all I want to do is curl up in the carriage house with a good book and a cup of tea. A cat would be much more conducive to that life style," Bilbo explains. "Also, a cat would be less disruptive to you. And your sister and nephews could take care of a cat if we go one trips."

"Alright." Thorin shifts so that he is face-to-face with Bilbo. "I think it's a good idea. I look forward to meeting the kitten you bring home."

Thorin interrupts Bilbo's wide smile with a kiss that only grows more passionate as Thorin rolls to cover Bilbo with his body.

* * *

"You're late," Bofur accuses without looking up from the crossword puzzle he is doing when Bilbo walks through the door of animal shelter.

"Ah, well, yes," Bilbo stutters, straightening his coat as a blush creeps up his neck.

Bofur looks up from the paper at Bilbo's reaction. Bofur raises an eyebrows and his mouth twists into a mock disapproving expression, "Really? Again? On a Thursday morning? Can't you wait until the weekend?"

"Sometimes these things just happen," Bilbo says stuffing his bag into the locker. "If you ever went out with anyone then you would know that."

Bofur snorts. "Yeah, just like all those people that show up in the ER and say they just slipped and fell on a dildo the size of my arm." Bofur waves his arm in Bilbo's direction for emphasis.

Bilbo wipes his hands on his khakis. "How are the animals," he asks changing the topic.

"They seem fine. Fine except for that orange asshole." Bofur turns back to his crossword.

"He won't be much a problem anymore?"

Bofur frowns in a question.

"I'm going to adopt him. Can you get the papers out?"

"Really? Why that one? There's that little black one that got brought in yesterday. No one's even seen her yet. As soon as they do, she'll be gone. Why don't you take her home? She seems sweet."

"Exactly," Bilbo says as he hops over the counter to reach the door to the back and the kennels. "She'll have a home almost immediately. The tabby has been here for months. He's a few years old; he'll probably never get adopted unless I do it."

"What does Thor have to say about all of this?" Bofur asks, searching for another way to convince Bilbo to adopt a different cat.

"He is okay with it – have you let them out and cleaned the kennels yet? – I told him I wanted something to keep me company while he's gone on his missions."

"Nah," Bofur says, flicking the page of the newspaper over.

"What do they even pay you for?"

"To look pretty, and provide stimulating conversation for you as you do all the work," Bofur says nonchalantly.

"Ass," Bilbo grumbles fondly.

"You know you love me," Bofur says with a cheeky grin.

Bilbo rolls his eyes before disappearing into the backroom.

"Hey there." Bilbo hands out a few treats to the eager dogs as he opens their kennels and lets them out into the back yards where they can get some exercise.

Bilbo smiles when he sees the orange tabby curled up in the back corner of his cage. "You get to go home today," Bilbo sticks his finger through the cage door to rub at the cat's paw. The cat yawns lazily, pulling its paw away from Bilbo's questing finger. The cat blinks it's large amber eyes slowly, it's eyes narrowing when it sees Bilbo peering through the bars of the cage.

* * *

Bilbo is grabbing his bag from the locker, juggling it along with the pet carrier. The cat is making displeased noises from inside.

"I can still get rid of the adoption papers," Bofur offers from his positon by the door. He swings the keys around his finger. "You can always take little blackie home."

"And what?" Bilbo turns, upsetting the cat once more. "Dash this one's hopes?"

"It's a cat."

"And I like this one," Bilbo says firmly, managing to pull his jacket on without dropping the pet carrier. He had charged Thorin with obtaining some essential supplies for the cat; food, a bed, toys, and some other things.

"Each to their own," Bofur shrugs. "I don't want you bringing him back. I won't let you." Bofur holds the door open for Bilbo and locks it behind them. "I just hope he's better behaved for you at home than he is here. 'Cause if not I feel sorry for you and Thorin."

"We'll be fine."

Bilbo buckles the carrier into the back seat of his car, and with a final wave to his friend and co-worker, he is taking the cat home.

Once Bilbo and the cat are home he lets the animal out and places a bowl of water on the floor before starting dinner. He can hear the animal moving around, knocking books over and just generally investigating. When the house goes silent once more, he walks through the house to locate the animal, just to check.

Bilbo hears Thorin entering the house before he sees him. He can hear Thorin dropping his bags right inside the door and kicking off his shoes. Thorin is stripping off his suit jacket as he walks into the living room. He even starts to unbutton his white shirt.

"I got the stuff from you list," Thorin gestures in the direction of the door. He glances around before asking, "Did you get the kitten?"

Bilbo nods, not caring to correct Thorin. He will see soon enough that the tabby is not a kitten.

"Do you know where it is?" Thorin asks, trying to get his finger into the thick soup that is bubbling pleasantly on the stove.

Bilbo smacks Thorin's hand away from the pot. "I think he was sleeping in the library last I saw him," Bilbo says, gesturing in the direction of their well-lit library with its skylights.

Thorin almost does not see that cat at first. It is curled up on the red and orange afghan that is draped over Bilbo's chair. He smiles; of course Bilbo would get  _this_  cat, wild and untamed as it looks. Bilbo always was fond of the rougher things in life. Thorin knows that he is a prime example of that. He has never been well polished, if he was, he would not be working for the government with these dangerous missions that they send him on.

"Hey there, puss." Thorin reaches out to stroke the orange cat's extensive mane.

"FUCK!" He swears snatching his hand away, stumbling, and falling over the footstool. He lands heavily on his back. "Fuck," he swears more quietly, glaring over at the cat.

"Thorin, what happens?" Bilbo half-shouts appearing in the doorway in a moment.

Thorin holds up his bleeding thumb before sticking it back in his mouth and pointing at the cat. "What's this assholes name," Thorin snarls as he nurses his profusely bleeding thumb.

"His name is Smaug."


	2. Not Getting Any Better

"Why did you get that cat?" Thorin demands sourly as he hold his still bleeding hand under the faucet.

Bilbo is hovering worriedly behind Thorin, trying to see the extent of the damage. Bilbo had had been scratched many times during his time at the Shire Animal Shelter and Rehabilitation Center, but none of the scratches had been enough to bleed more than a few drops. "He has been there for over a year. I thought It would be nice to give him a home."

Thorin grunts.

"I'm sure that once he settles in it will be fine. You probably just startled him, is all," Bilbo pauses before teasingly adding, "You are quite big and scary after all."

Thorin does not take the bait. He just grumbles more before finally turning off the water to inspect his hand that is no longer bleeding quite so much. He peers at it, pulling at the edges to see how deep the cut went. "I bet he's a good mouser. Maybe he'll be able to clear out the cellar. None of my traps are working," Thorin grumbles.

"Here," Bilbo says taking Thorin's hand, "That needs a bandage. Sit," Bilbo orders before disappearing into the bathroom that is off the kitchen. He returns with gauze, medical tape, rubbing alcohol, and antibacterial salve.

Thorin looks at the supplies Bilbo is carrying with a frown. "It isn't as bad as all that," he insists. "It's just a scratch. See." Thorin holds his hand up to prove his point. However it is at the point that a drop of blood, that has been gather for a several moments rolls down Thorin's palm and drops to the floor. The bright red of the blood stark against the clean white kitchen tiles. He groans, knowing that he just lost his case for anything less than looking like he had gone to war.

Thorin sits down at the island and holds out his hand grudgingly. "Fine." He grumbles, looking away. Bilbo has to set the supplies down on counter before clambering up on the bar stool. When they had remodeled the kitchen, Bilbo had insisted the he could deal with the high level of the counters. While he was fine, it left him sometimes looking like a child standing at the tall counters.

Bilbo pours alcohol onto a cotton before taking Thorin's large hand in his.

Thorin hisses as Bilbo wipes the cotton ball across the cut. "Is this really necessary? It's just a scratch," Thorin whines.

"Don't whine," Bilbo orders, slapping Thorin's thigh. "He used a litter box at the shelter. That means his claws are a lot dirtier than if he did his business outside. We'll get him to do that, but for now there is good chance that there was fecal matter under his claws, which could lead to a nasty infection." Bilbo explains matter-of-factly as he tosses the cotton ball into the trashcan and smears some that antibacterial salve over the scratch; he firmly keeps Thorin's hand in place when he tries to twitch away.

"Lovely," Thorin says sarcastically.

Bilbo wraps Thorin's hand with the gauze. "There. All better," Bilbo says, pressing a kiss to Thorin's palm when he is finished.

"I look like I tried to cut my hand." Thorin holds up his hand to look at the bandage.

"If it makes you feel better you can always tell them that I did something to you," Bilbo says, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"I can only do that if you actually do something to me. I might need a few love bites to make my story believable." Thorin raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Bilbo snorts and hops down off the bar stool. "Enough of that. For now, I need to finish my butternut squash soup."

* * *

 

Despite Bilbo's assurances, things did not get better, but Smaug did not do anything in particular to upset Thorin. The cat, however, did other things to annoy Thorin and Bilbo, but in particular, Thorin. Bilbo was understanding about the cat adjusting to a new environment, a new home; Thorin was not. He does not understand how the cat could use a litterbox at the shelter, but could not figure out how to use one here even when it was placed where he was going. The cat liked to hide in inconvenient place, hiss, and swipe at Thorin when he passes or tries to sit down anywhere.

Thorin is almost glad that the company is sending him out of the Shire for a week or two. It would be a week or two where he can move about a private space and sit down on a chair or lay down on his bed without worrying about being startled onto the floor. Over the past few weeks, he has had an almost permanent bruise on his ass from all the times that Smaug has startled him onto the floor. "Damn cat," he mutters to himself.

Thorin stares at his duffle bag, running everything that he needs to take with him in his head as he checks for those items.  _'Socks, underwear, pajamas, toiletries – toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, deodorant, face wash, ibuprofen (just in case) – dress shoes, dress socks, passport, kindle, suit, tie."_ Thorin riffles through the bag, and checks the garment bag that contains his suit for his tie. No tie. "Hmm…" Thorin goes back to his mental list. " _Dress shirt, gym shoes, gym clothes, notebook, laptop, charging cords – laptop, kindle, phone – headphones."_ The only thing missing is his tie. He opens the garment bag and opens it pulling the suit out to check the bottom corners of the bag and in the sleeves of the suit. Nothing.

Thorin drops the open bag onto the bed, his suit spilling out and leaves the room. "Bilbo!"

"Yeah?" Bilbo sounds distracted.

Thorin sticks his head through the door into the library/office. "Have you seen my tie?

Bilbo looks up over the edge of his book. He raises a single eyebrow and looks skeptically at Thorin. He closes the book around a finger, placing it in his lap that is mostly filled with the large, orange fur ball that is Smaug. "Do you remember where you last had it?" Bilbo asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Bilbo's movement startles the cat. Smaug jumps down and shoots past Thorin and down the hall.

Thorin frowns. "If I knew that I wouldn't have lost it."

Bilbo smiles. "You really don't remember. I'm offended." He picks his book back up and pretends to go back to reading.

Thorin hangs on the doorjamb thinking for several long moments. He starts when he remembers. He sneaks a look at Bilbo, who has given up pretending to read and is watching him intently, whose eyes are dancing with mirth.

"I haven't moved it," Bilbo assures him.

Thorin looks away, a guilty look on his face.

Bilbo picks his book back up again.

Thorin walks across to Bilbo's desk, being overly careful to walk lightly even though he knows that Bilbo is paying close attention to him. Thorin quickly looks around the desk. Nothing.  _"Of course,"_  he grumbles internally. He leans over the desk to behind the desk. Amid the dust and cobwebs is his blue tie. He has to stretch and fight to get his arm behind the desk and far enough to grab the tie. The tight space and the sharp edge of the desk scratch his arm up, but he is successful.

The tie is filthy; Thorin slaps it across his tie several times to knock some of the dust off. It leaves large streaks across the thigh of his jeans.

Thorin is almost out the door, he thinks that he has escaped any further commentary. He freezes when Bilbo speaks.

"Did you find it?" Bilbo asks, feigning complete disinterest.

"Shut up," Thorin rumbles, before disappearing down the hall to the bedroom.

Thorin shuts the door behind him. He glares down at the tie that is currently crumpled in his fist. He deftly folds the tie and turns around. He freezes. Smaug is laying right in the center of what used to be his clean suit.

"OUT!" Thorin shouts, flinging the door open. The door bangs off the wall and bounces back. "Out cat!" Thorin shouts again rushing forward and grabbing the suit, dumping the cat onto the ground.

Smaug hisses and the fur on his back raises, but retreats when Thorin takes a few steps towards him.

"Dammit," Thorin grumbles, trying to knock the bright orange hair off his navy blue suit. The hair seems to have almost fused to the wool of the suit in the few minutes that Smaug had been laying on it. He looks at the time on the alarm clock. 9:37pm. Far too late to get the suit to a dry cleaners. And the corner store that sold sticky rolls for animal fur and dust closed at 9:30 on Sunday evenings.

"Godammit, Smaug," Thorin rages flinging his suit down on the bed and stalking out of the bedroom.


	3. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Thorin is trying to do is drink his coffee and read the newspaper.

Thorin stretches his limbs as he slowly wakes up. His quads are sore from his run yesterday; it had been too long since he had been out on one. His yearly physical was coming up and he had been slacking on his physical fitness routine. He stretches his arms over his head and groans involuntarily.

The groan disturbs Bilbo who shuffles; pulling the blanket over his curly head. He makes a small whining noise. Thorin smiles at that sound. He slowly rolls onto his side; careful not to stress any of his muscles. He rubs and squeezes Bilbo's arm. Bilbo makes more small noises and burrows further into his pillows. Thorin presses a kiss to his husband's ear; grinning that the protesting noises that emerge from the blanket lump.

"Did my little bunny sleep well?" Thorin whispers breathily into Bilbo's ear.

Bilbo groans and squirms away from the intrusion.

Thorin grins again. He squeezes Bilbo's arm before he climbs out of bed and stretches again. He stoops to pull on a pair of socks with grippy bear feet on the bottom that Bilbo had given to him the past Christmas. The floors in their house were notoriously cold in the morning especially know that snow was beginning to fall outside. He pulls on his red tartan robe before tucking the blankets around Bilbo snuggly. He smiles at the curly golden brown hair that pokes from the blankets.

Weekends are their lazy days. Thorin had gone to bed a little later than usual, but not long after midnight. He had left Bilbo sitting in the library curled up under a fleece blanket and Smaug at the foot of his chair. The cat had hissed at him and clawed at his ankles when he bent to give Bilbo a goodnight kiss. Thorin had to resist the urge to push the cat out of the way with his foot.

Bilbo had only made a small humming noise in acknowledgement to Thorin's 'goodnight.' He was reading some thick book with a ship being tossed by the waves on the cover. Bilbo had not come to bed until almost 5am. He had woken Thorin when he crawled into bed. Thorin had reached out to pull Bilbo to his chest only to discover that there were tears upon his cheeks. This was not a common occurrence, nor was it uncommon. Thorin quickly fell asleep stroking Bilbo's hair and murmuring small comforting things.

Thorin pads down the hall to the front door. He pauses inside the door to check the weather on his phone. 22° with falling snow and gusting winds. He frowns and glances at his coat and boots that are setting inside the front door. Then he looks outside and down the lane to the mailbox where he can see the tell-tale bright orange bag that the Saturday newspaper comes in. Either option – running out in the snow in his socks and robe or putting on his boots and coat will tear him from his warm just-woke-up state.

He stuffs his phone back into his pocket and opens the door for a mad dash to the mailbox and back. He winces when he steps in the puddle that is always at the close end of the sidewalk. He pulls the robe tight around his leans over the fence to pull the newspaper out of the mailbox without needing to open the gate. He snatches one of the handles and pulls it from the newspaper box. Once the orange bag swings free Thorin turns and dashes for the front door that he left open.

He slams the door firmly behind him and shivers violently. He tucks the newspaper under his arm and peels off his socks that are now soaked; he drops them beside the door and over the heating vent. He frowns.

Thorin pulls the newspaper out of the bag and wanders into the kitchen. He lays the slightly damp paper out on the dining table before he walks over to put a pod into his coffee maker. He pulls a mug out of the cupboard and leans against the counter waiting for the maker to brew his coffee. The kitchen smells with the warm, early smell of hazelnut coffee. When its finished he picks up the mug, pours some cream in the cup – it swirls enticingly – and returns to the dining room table to find Smaug sitting on his chair.

"Shoo," Thorin grumbles flapping his free hand at the cat.

Smaug yawns lazily and lays his head on his paws that are tucked under his chest.

Thorin scowls. He sets his mug down firmly on the table before picking up the brilliant orange cat. He has to move quickly to avoid injury from the cat's razor sharp claws. He had learned that he could not linger if he had to manually move Smaug. He had a thin white scar across the back of his hand as a reminder. He had moved the cat side from his side of the bed one night; he had left that incident with battle scars.

He drops Smaug the second that the cat is over the floor rather than the chair.

"MROWWWR," Smaug protests at the treatment.

Thorin rolls his eyes as he sits down and opens his paper. He opens the paper to the sports section first to check to football and cricket scores before he moves onto the headlines. He slowly sips his hazelnut coffee with cream. He sets the cup down on the paper that is spread out over the table as he becomes engrossed in the story. He hears Smaug jump up on the table. He rolls his eyes. The cat seems not to understand that he is NOT supposed to be on the table or any other surface where foot is eaten or prepared.

The article is about a messy car accident that took place not far away from his sister's house. It seemed to have been a perfect storm of coincidences. Smaug's tail brushes against his nose.

Thorin shoves the cat's butt away, "Move, Smaug!"

The cat turns and walks back rubbing his tail against Thorin's nose again.

"CAT!" Thorin half-shouts.

Smaug meows pitifully before turning and walking back on front of Thorin again.

"Will you just move, you little bastard?" Thorin swears exasperatedly.

Smaug meows again and jumps down off the table. Thorin is relieved until hot liquid rolls off the table and into his lap.

Thorin knocks his chair over in the rush to push himself away from the table. He brushes frantically at the coffee that is still almost at a boiling temperature. His light colored flannel pajamas – another gift from Bilbo – do not only have brown coffee on them, but black ink that has run off his newspaper.

Thorin shouts in anger looking down at his pants that are most likely ruined. "Really? Really!" He looks around for Smaug just in time to see the cat's orange tail disappearing around the corner. "You have got to be kidding me!"


	4. Sleeping Arrangements

Bilbo absently scratches the tabby cat’s ears as he turns another page in his book. The fire in the library has burned low and the wind howls around the corners of the house. Bilbo adjusts the blanket over his knees and sighs. Autumn is his favorite season, but this one has not been the same. This time Thorin has been gone for several weeks. The warm late summer days of September had faded into the rainy, windy, fire-filled days of late October. There had not even been regular phone calls. The last call had been almost a week ago, and, at that time, Thorin had no idea when he was going to be coming home. He had said that everything was more complicated than originally intended.

“At least I have you,” Bilbo says quietly to the cat that is purring on the arm of his chair. During the weeks that Thorin had been gone Smaug had become more affectionate. He had even taken to sleeping next to Bilbo at night. He kept trying to read even though the text was starting to blur and swims before his eyes. His eyes drift shut. His head dips forward. He jerks his head back up, startled, and shakes his head to wake himself up a bit. Bilbo blinks blearily before he picks up the bookmark and carefully tucks it into his book before placing it on the side table.

“Up you get.” Bilbo scoops up Smaug around the middle and places him on the floor. “Bed time.” He folds the thick afghan in half and throws it over the back of the armchair. Smaug winds himself around Bilbo ankles as he puts the fire out and closes the chimney to prevent backdraft.

“I already fed you,” Bilbo chastises. “Acting like this isn’t going to get you anymore.”

Smaug meows plaintively.

“I know, I know,” Bilbo mumbles and pushes Smaug away from his feet so that he can climb the stairs without falling down.

Bilbo turns on the lamp beside the bed. He sleepily peels off his sweater and khakis. He loses a sock in the process. He tugs on a pair of plaid pajama pants and starts to put on a t-shirt. He pauses half-way and takes it back off. He pads over to Thorin dresser and opens one of the drawers. He picks up a t-shirt and presses it to his face. He sighs and pulls it over his head. His curls stick up in all directions. He slowly climbs into the bed and stuffs his feet beneath the covers.

Smaug jumps up onto the bed. He makes a straggle meow when he lands, but he curls up on Thorin’s pillow.

Bilbo smiles. “Good cat.” He scratches Smaug’s ears before turning off the lamp and wrapping himself in the puffy duvet. He falls asleep with his hand in Smaug’s long, orange fur.

* * *

“Off!” Bilbo moves Smaug from the bed to the floor. Smaug howls in protest and attempts to hope back onto the bed only to be swept off because Bilbo is stripping the sheets. Bilbo’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

_/ The plane just landed. I should be home in less than 20 minutes. T. /_

Smaug continues yowling.

“Sorry, buddy,” Bilbo apologizes, stuffing the sheets into the laundry hamper. “The good life is over. Daddy is home and you’re back to sleeping on the floor.” He pulls a clean set from the cupboard. He almost trips over Smaug in the process.

“Out,” he pushes Smaug into the back hallway and shuts the door. He is almost finished, he is just changing the pillowcases when he hears the door slam downstairs.

“I’m home!”

“Upstairs,” Bilbo shouts back.

Bilbo finishes making the bed and he listens to Thorin’s heavy footsteps as he climbs the stairs. He stops inside the door and drops his bag on the floor. He smiles and brushes his hair back and out of his eyes. He opens his arms for a hug. Bilbo obliges.

Bilbo buries his face in Thorin’s shirt. “You smell like an airplane.”

Thorin only hums in response.

Bilbo rubs Thorin’s back. “It’s late did you eat dinner on the plane?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go out and get something? I don’t really feel like doing the washing up and if I leave it until morning then Smaug will have gotten into it.”

“If you want,” Thorin says resting his head in Bilbo’s curls.

“I do, I haven’t eaten yet. I was waiting for you.”

Thorin nods. “Just let me change my shoes, these stupid dress shoes are killing me.” Thorin releases Bilbo from the hug and shuffles over the bed where he kicks off his dark brown oxfords. He looks around and checks under the bed, “Sandals?” he says quizzically.

“Oh! I put them in your closet.” Bilbo dashes over to the closet and finds the sandals that Thorin was talking about. He sighs as he slides his feet into them.

“Why can’t they make dress shoes as comfortable as Birkenstocks? Or why can’t Birkenstock make dress shoes?” Thorin asks no one in particular.

Bilbo shrugs, “Are the dress shoes really that bad?” He looks down at his own bare feet.

“Stifling,” Thorin says by way of an answer.

“Is there anything that you’re in the mood for?” Bilbo asks, changing the subject.

“Anything that’s close. I just want to eat something and then go to sleep. Its been a long six weeks.”

“Is the Green Dragon okay then?”

Thorin nods sleepily as he clambers to his feet. “Sounds good. They have the best pub fries.”

* * *

 

Less than an hour later Bilbo is stealing the last few pub fries from Thorin plate. He even looks around surreptitiously before scooping up some of the melted cheese on his finger and popping it into his mouth.

Thorin is not even paying attention anymore. His arms are folded on the table and his head is resting on his crossed arms. Bilbo reaches over and scratches Thorin’s head. Bilbo can tell that the other man is awake only by the way that he presses his head into Bilbo’s hand.

“Are you ready to go home?” Bilbo asks without stopping his ministrations.

“Mmmm,” Thorin hums.

“I don’t know what that means,” Bilbo chides gently.

“Can you keep rubbing my head? It feels nice,” Thorin mumbles into his arms.

Bilbo chuckles and rubs more firmly. “I can. But that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Yeah, we can go. Did you already get the check?”

“About ten minutes ago. I thought you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t,” Thorin grumbles and he pushes himself into an upright position.

“You were snoring.”

“Hrumph.”

Bilbo laughs. “Come. Let’s get you home, sleepyhead.” Bilbo wraps his arms around Thorin’s waist as they make their way to the door.

* * *

 

“Were you wearing my shirt?” Thorin asks as he fumbles with the blankets as he tries to get under the covers.” 

“Wha?” Bilbo asks, walking out of the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth.

“My shirt,” Thorin says as he adjusts his pillow. “Did you wear it?”

Bilbo’s cheek flush. “Maybe.”

Thorin lifts the hem to his nose. “It smells like you.”

Bilbo flushes even more.

Thorin nestles down into the pillow and sighs. Bilbo goes back bathroom. When he comes back into the bedroom he turns off the lights and turns on the fan – Thorin likes the ambient sound – before he slides under the cover next to Thorin. 

“Come ‘ere,” Thorin rumbles holding his arm out so that Bilbo and cuddle close. Bilbo obliges and rests his head on Thorin’s chest. He pulls his knees and hooks one leg over Thorin’s.

“I’m so glad to be home,” Thorin says sleepily.

“Are you sure it isn’t just you missing our mattress? Those hotel mattresses are terrible,” Bilbo teases.

“The company is much better here.”

“That’s only because I give you rubs,” Bilbo laughs. He demonstrates this benefit by affectionately rubbing Thorin’s chest.

“That’s definitely a bonus,” Thorin concedes.

Bilbo smiles and closes his eyes. He continues to occasionally rub Thorin’s chest. He can feel the other man’s breathing start to even out as he starts to drift off to sleep. Bilbo starts to do the same.

Just as he starts to fall asleep everything shifts violently, Thorin shouts, and pain blossoms across Bilbo’s face.

“What is it? Are you okay?!” Bilbo asks as he fumbles desperately with the lamp switch. One hand is holding his face. He can feel something warm and sticky.

He finally manages to turn the nob on the lamp and the bedroom is flooded with light. It reveals Thorin who is sitting bolt upright in bed and glaring at Smaug who is standing on the end of the bed with his back arched and his fur standing on end.

“What happened?” Bilbo asks again.

“That _thing_ ,” Thorin spits out, “just jumped on my face. It scared the shit out of me.” He turns to look at Bilbo. “Oh, god, Bilbo … I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Smaug makes his way over to Bilbo and curls up on Bilbo’s lap.

“I’m s-sorry,” Thorin stammers. He climbs out of bed. “I’m going to get ice, a towel, and some tissues.”

Bilbo frowns and pulls his hand away from his face. It is red and sticky with blood. He gingerly feels his left cheek and his nose. Bilbo winces, both are tender; it feels like his cheek is already swelling.

“I’m so sorry, Bo,” Thorin apologizes again as he crawls onto the bed. He wraps the peas in a tea towel and hands it to Bilbo who presses them gently against his cheek and nose.

Thorin reaches for Smaug to move the ginger cat.

Smaug raises up, arches his back, and yowls.. He hisses and swipes at Thorin’s hands, scratching him. Thorin swears under his breath.

“Smaug,” Bilbo chastises. He uses his freehand to scoop up the cat and deposit him on the floor. The cat makes a loud “thunk” sound when he lands on the rug. He makes an attempt to jump back onto the bed. Bilbo blocks him with his foot. Smaug yowls again when he lands on the floor again.

“I’m sorry. He just scared the shit out of me. I didn’t mean to elbow you in the face.” Thorin reaches out to caress Bilbo’s cheek that is not covered by the peas. “What is up with that cat?”

Bilbo shrugs. “I’m okay. I know it was an accident,” he assures Thorin.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to get you some pain killers?”

Bilbo shakes his head, but winces at the movement. “No. It is not that serious. I’m sorry. I was letting him sleep in the bed while you were gone. I just wanted another warm body in the bed. He was a very poor substitute, but he was a substitute,” Bilbo smiles before continuing, “He was furry enough though.”

Thorin makes a sound in the back of his through. “I really think I should get you some painkillers. Does it hurt very much?”

“I promise you that it’s not that bad. The worse part about it is going to be trying to explain it to Bofur tomorrow. He’s going to think that there’s a sexy story behind it. He’s not going to believe that it is a cat-related accident.”

Thorin snorts and gently pulls Bilbo to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Bilbo swats Thorin’s chest. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get Smaug a bed of his own tomorrow so that he can have his own place.”


End file.
